


Domestic Harmonies 2: The Sitting Room (Ineffably Free)

by Mizmak (orphan_account)



Series: Domestic Harmonies [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Mizmak
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Domestic Harmonies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762777
Kudos: 7





	Domestic Harmonies 2: The Sitting Room (Ineffably Free)

Aziraphale sat at one end of the overstuffed, extra-wide sofa, while Crowley lay stretched out full-length, using the angel’s thigh for a pillow.

When the afternoon began a few hours ago, a light rain had been falling, and a fire had been burning, but now the sun broke through the clouds with shafts of warming light filtering through the lace curtains in the front bow windows. The fire had died down to embers.

They had started out, that rainy afternoon, with two cups of tea, followed by Aziraphale reading aloud from _Treasure Island_ , which had managed to amuse Crowley for a good hour before he drifted off to sleep.

Now the book sat on the coffee table, while Aziraphale sipped freshly brewed tea that had somehow made its way from the kitchen to the sitting room without his physical help. He gently stroked Crowley’s hair, which had grown out a little in the month they’d lived here. 

Crowley’s eyelids flickered off and on, and he made murmuring noises, lost in a dream, no doubt.

“Mmph….the black spot…a bottle of rum,” he muttered.

Aziraphale smiled. Crowley was having a dream that seemed to include bits from the book. He was pleased that his dear friend, who often claimed to avoid reading books, had been sufficiently entertained enough to remember parts of the story.

He would love it if this became a regular part of their lives here—Crowley relaxed beside him as he read from his favorite books. Aziraphale envisioned many lazy afternoons to come, especially on rainy days, with warmth from the fireplace, with tea or cocoa and perhaps a nice, sweet treat to nibble on. 

“Pieces of eight…” Crowley murmured, and then he twisted about, eyelids fluttering wildly. “Drink and the devil!” he shouted, sitting bolt upright, eyes wide.

_Oops_. Perhaps this hadn’t been the best choice of novel. “Calm down, my dear. It was just a dream.” He pulled Crowley back down onto his lap. “There, there.” He brushed a few errant strands of hair off his friend’s forehead.

“Sorry.” Crowley took a deep breath, and then sighed. He gazed up at Aziraphale, eyes shining with affection. “I was on the island, digging for buried treasure. Kept being dive-bombed by a parrot.” He smiled. “It had horns.”

“A parrot with horns?”

“Devil parrot.”

“Ah, of course.” Dreams could be so odd. “Wonder what that says about your subconscious, my dear.”

“I am constantly harried by devils, I guess. Though not anymore. Shouldn’t be, anyway.”

“You’re not worried, are you? Deep down?” It was something he had fretted over, ever since they’d both been let go, so to speak, by their former employers—he worried that either revengeful angels or demons might take matters into their own hands, and seek to harm them still.

“Nah.” Crowley waved a dismissive hand. But then his brow furrowed. “Well, mostly not. Might have a few lingering doubts now and then.”

It had been only one month since they’d retired to this cottage. Perhaps as more time passed, the anxiety would fade. “I’ve had them, too. But I do hope that both our former sides will simply forget about us—out of sight and out of mind.”

“Yeah, I reckon they will.” Crowley stretched out an arm, flexing his fingers. “Just a silly dream.” Then he slowly sat up. “Hey, the rain stopped.”

“Yes, I believe it’s done for the day. Perhaps we could go for a stroll before evening?”

“Yeah, all right. In a bit.” Crowley snuggled up close, and wrapped an arm round Aziraphale’s shoulders. “You read very well, you know.”

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale felt absurdly cheered. 

“Make the characters come alive—different voices and all. And it’s a good story, too. I could get used to this.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.” It was what he wanted—to share the things he adored, like books, with his beloved friend. “We could make a habit of reading in the afternoons, when we’re not doing anything else, that is. I have so many favorites—there are so many wonderful stories that we can enjoy together. And of course, I don’t need to hog the limelight, so to speak. I mean, if you wanted to do some of the reading, too, I think that would be absolutely delightful. Whatever you like best—adventure, comedy—“

“Romance?” Crowley kissed his temple. 

“Oh, well, yes.” Aziraphale reached up to cradle Crowley’s face with both hands, and kissed him on the lips. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

They nestled even closer together then, exchanging soft caresses and light kisses, and Aziraphale felt that this was heaven—not the cold, unwelcoming sterile Heaven with a capital H, but a gentler, kinder heaven of their own making here on Earth. 

“You know,” Crowley said, “of all the paths I once imagined my life would go down, sharing a cottage with an angel was not high on the list, in terms of likelihood.”

“No, I suppose not. Odd, how things worked out for us.” He refrained from saying _ineffable_. “If we hadn’t stopped Armagedddon, we wouldn’t have been in trouble, nor would we have pulled that body swap to get out of trouble. And we wouldn’t have our freedom.”

He felt Crowley shudder against him. “Doesn’t bear thinking about.”

But Aziraphale _had_ thought about it. If Armageddon had actually happened—the Earth would have been destroyed, and if Heaven had won, which he felt fairly certain of, what would have become of Crowley? And if Heaven lost—well, that didn’t bear thinking about, either. In any case, they would have been separated, or doomed to obliteration, never to be together again. 

It _was_ ineffable indeed, that they had wound up together, and safe. Now that he thought it over even more, he suddenly knew that _Someone_ must have looked out for them.

“Crowley, about what you said earlier…about being chased by demons, from that dream you had. I honestly believe we don’t need to worry about anyone coming after us, ever.”

“You sound very sure of that.” Crowley looked at him, smiled, and brushed his fingers along Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“I _am_ sure.” His earlier fretting had completely disappeared. “It’s because we _are_ here—in this most unlikely of places. There is simply no possible way this all could have happened by chance, or by some bizarre series of accidents. The probability, as you said, of an angel and a demon working together to save the world and then winding up in love and living together is so low as to be next-to-impossible.”

“Yeah? So what—it was all planned, then, from the very beginning?”

“You suggested that once. And yes, it must have been. Which means the Almighty _wants_ us to be here. Which, I believe, also means we are being rewarded for services rendered—and we’ll be protected from harm in order to enjoy that reward.”

Crowley nodded. “I like your reasoning.”

Aziraphale felt at peace then, in this comfortable place, next to the one he was meant to be with—from the beginning. “It has to be the right thing. Us, here.” He glanced upwards, at a Heaven he couldn’t see, but which he knew was there, and not the cold, sterile one ruled by the Archangels. He saw, in his mind’s eye, a place of supreme benevolence from which the Almighty spread out a celestial wing that covered his and Crowley’s love.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he whispered. Then he shifted out of their embrace to stretch his arms. “Come on, let’s take that walk now.”

“Right.” Crowley rose, stretching as well. “Down to the village and back, on the footpath? We could pick up some wine, maybe a little cheese.”

They headed off, into the late afternoon, and as they strolled hand in hand, Aziraphale could have sworn that the soft rays of sunlight which they walked beneath not only warmed, but blessed them as they went.


End file.
